


Hello Stranger

by Evehs_Lullaby



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Elevators, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evehs_Lullaby/pseuds/Evehs_Lullaby
Summary: It's an elevator fic, but perhaps not the kind you're thinking of. AU. Just starting to do some cross posting of older fics.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 47
Kudos: 445





	1. Chapter 1

Miranda Priestly was not the type of woman that awoke to the unpleasant sound of an alarm. Her circadian rhythm had always been just shy of being worthy of an act in a traveling circus. She had no need for alarms, no need for beeping reminders of her overflowing calendar. She awoke every morning at exactly five, prepared for her day and walked into her office no later than nine. Business was then attended to until it was time for lunch that, based on her meetings and other extenuating circumstances that might arise, occurred between eleven in the morning and one in the afternoon. After lunch, more business ensued to be followed only by a phone call to her daughters at four, which was exactly fifteen minutes after their last school bell for the day rung. She would engage in a fifteen to twenty minute conversation with her girls, and then would return to her work. Anything that occurred after four-thirty was always determined based on how that particular day had gone and what events she needed to attend to after working hours. When she would finally arrive home, normally it was in the evening, her husband would inevitably be upset with her absence. At least three nights of the week an argument would ensue and Stephen would sleep in one of the guestrooms and she would check in with her daughters as if the argument had never occurred. She would do her best to involve herself in their lives, and then she would return to work but always made sure to be in bed by eleven at night.

The beat of her life bounced out in rigid organization and was stuck in a decrescendo. The rhythm of her life was set, and despite her best efforts, Miranda couldn't recall exactly how it had gotten that way. Her youth had been filled with unpredictability wrapped in tidal waves of experience and sensation, and while she did not miss the extremes her life had taken on in her younger years, she did mourn the loss of the woman who had at least grasped onto true moments of happiness.

She was surrounded in wealth and privilege, and she had accomplished everything she had set out to accomplish. She had reached the top of her mountain and now all she could do was look down and wonder just how hard she would manage to fall when everything faded away, because she knew it would all eventually fade. There would be a day when she was no longer in control of Runway. There would be a time when no one would seek her out for her approval in their artistry. Her power would diminish and she'd be left with her wealth, her girls, and—by divine chance—her marriage.

But, as it was, she really did have very little time to contemplate her own demise no matter how inevitable it might be. She had her suspicions about Jacqueline Follet from Runway Paris manufacturing a hostile dethroning with the help of Irv Ravitz, but that was a concern she would deal with later. For now, she had other matters that were much more pressing. Emily had once again failed at hiring adequate assistance and she had to figure out exactly what she was going to do with James Holt. His designs were beginning to look less than appealing and she would not let him falter so much as to fall into the brink of complete failure.

Miranda rubbed at her temples before she finally got up and walked out of her study. She readied for bed and at ten minutes until eleven at night she slid into her bed and closed her eyes so that she could fall into a dreamless sleep.

Miranda walked into Elias-Clarke exactly on time. She breezed through the lobby and towards the elevators. She entered the nearest one to her right, not bothering to acknowledge the group of individuals who stepped out of it in deference to her preference of riding it alone. She watched the numbers light up as she was taken at a high speed from floor to floor, and was mildly annoyed when the elevator stopped five floors below Runway's.

A woman with her head bowed down, reading through a sheet of paper stepped on without acknowledging Miranda's presence. With an air of incredulity, Miranda stared at the young woman until brown eyes lifted to meet hers.

"I'm sorry," the woman apologized, but not for the reasons Miranda would have hoped for. "I'm being sent to Auto Universe and I can't remember what floor it's on. Would you happen to know?"

"Auto," Miranda could hardly restrain her desire to lash out and push the unsuspecting woman off of the elevator, "Universe?"

"I'm going there for an interview." The woman must have finally noticed Miranda's unfriendly expression because she held up her hands, palms facing outward in her defense. "I know, I know. You're probably thinking I'm about as qualified for Auto Universe as Frankenstein would be as an anger management coach." The woman shrugged. "But it seems like I was five minutes too late to be sent up to Runway."

Miranda pursed her lips and looked over the woman standing next to her. "And do you think you would have been more qualified for Runway?"

"I don't know," the woman released a self-deprecating laugh, obviously not catching onto Miranda's acerbic tone. "I think I would have liked it more than Auto Universe. The only thing I know about cars is limited to: put foot on gas and car goes vroom." She laughed again. "I at least know that with fashion I'd have a higher interest in learning about it."

Miranda looked over the woman once more. "I doubt that," she commented as she turned back towards the elevator doors.

"Hey," the woman kept a smile on her face. "Don't judge this book by its cover. When I was growing up everyone was sure I was going to be a lawyer and working for the ACLU or something, but I went into journalism instead. So, now I'm a starving writer instead of a starving crusader of law."

Miranda couldn't quite hold back her smirk. "Starving crusader of law?"

The woman shrugged. "It's the best I could do in the moment."

The elevator bell sounded, announcing the arrival at her floor. Miranda pulled off her sunglasses and then stepped out of the elevator. She looked over her shoulder before the elevator doors closed and said, "Auto Universe is on the seventh floor," and then walked away into Runway and towards Emily.

It had been an incredibly long day and Miranda was thankful for it ending. The new assistant Emily had chosen seemed hardly competent enough to tie her own shoes in the morning and was not at all cut out for the position she had been chosen for, but Miranda would keep her in the position until Emily's workload lessened and time permitted for someone more qualified to be sought out and hired.

Once again, Miranda stepped into the elevator alone. She scrolled through her mobile phone as the lift brought her closer to the ground floor. She was surprised when the elevator stopped on the seventh floor, and allowed the errant thought of a supreme coincidence when the doors opened and revealed the same woman she had shared the elevator with that morning.

Again, the woman stepped into the elevator without looking. This time, her brown hair looked a little more frazzled than it had earlier—if that was indeed possible—and her unfashionable clothes were in slight disarray. Miranda had the perverse pleasure of speaking first. "I see you managed to ingratiate yourself with the Auto Universe staff."

The woman's eyes widened and she turned to look at Miranda. "I learned why changing spark plugs is important," the woman warily related. "And um…" the woman ran her hand through her hair, "I'm pretty sure the most exposure some of those men have had to women involves some form of adult entertainment."

"Thrilling." Miranda sarcastically commented as she dropped her phone back into her purse.

The woman sighed heavily. "It's a paycheck, and I'm sure it will get better. On the plus side, I'll learn the difference between a four cylinder and six cylinder engines."

"I don't see how you can contain your excitement."

The woman sighed again. "It's a paycheck." A forced smile quickly made an appearance. "I feel stupid just talking about me. How was your day?"

The question was surprising. Miranda couldn't remember the last time anyone had so blatantly asked her something so mundane and…normal. "A new assistant was hired today," she answered more from surprise than anything else.

"That tells me what happened," the woman's smile turned genuine, "but that really doesn't tell me how your day went."

Quickly, Miranda ran her day through her head, highlighting the events and categorizing them. "It went well," she eventually confessed.

"That's good." The woman softly laughed. "My friends and I are celebrating my new job tonight, and I don't want to spend the whole night complaining, so at least I can tell them that I met someone on the elevator who's day didn't suck."

The elevator finally reached the bottom floor, and Miranda allowed the woman to step out of it first. The lobby was mostly vacant with only a few people lingering around not looking particularly interested in what was going on near the elevators. The two of them silently walked towards the doors that would take them to the street. Once they had exited the building, the young woman turned to Miranda, a tentative smile still filtering through a newfound nervousness. "Um…I just sort of want to thank you for today."

"Thank me?"

"Yeah." The woman shifted uncomfortably. "Today probably would have been a lot worse if I hadn't stumbled into the elevator with you."

Miranda took a quick glance around, not quite sure how to accept this woman's gratitude. "I'm not sure I would thank me," she stated. "I did tell you where to find Auto Universe."

The woman laughed. "Yeah, that's right. Maybe I shouldn't be thanking you."

Miranda shook her head, not yet quite believing the conversation she had found herself in. "I'm sure if you commit yourself, then you'll find success."

"I hope so." The woman looked down at her watch. "I should be heading over to the restaurant. I'd ask you to join us, but for some reason I'm pretty sure you have more important things to do."

Miranda looked down at her own watch, though the act was unnecessary. "I should get back home."

"Well in that case, have a good night."

"You as well." Miranda began to turn around but was stopped by a gentle hand on her arm. She narrowed her eyes at the hand and it was quickly removed.

"Sorry," the woman immediately apologized. "I just realized I never told you my name. It's Andrea, by the way. Andrea Sachs, but everyone calls me Andy."

Miranda nodded. "Good night, Andrea." She turned back around and walked towards the car waiting for her. She selfishly refrained from introducing herself, not yet wanting to let Andrea know just who she had been talking to. Besides, Miranda knew the chances of her ever speaking to Andrea Sachs again were slim.

When she returned home, she ate dinner with her family and avoided doing any work until Emily delivered the mockup for the next Runway issue. She noticed that her girls, Caroline and Cassidy, seemed somewhat surprised by her presence but said nothing about it. That night, Stephen refrained from sleeping in a separate room and joined her in the bed. It had been the first time in a while since they had shared the same sleeping space, and Miranda found that she had missed the presence of a body lying next to her, although she couldn't say it was Stephen's body she had particularly missed.

Three weeks had gone by since Miranda had met Andrea Sachs in the Elias-Clarke elevator. She hadn't given much thought to the young woman, and her life returned to the same beat of the drum she had always lived by. She had just fired her second assistant and was even contemplating firing her first assistant as punishment for subjecting her to such an idiotic waste of her time. Her second assistant had made a scheduling error that had thrown apart Miranda's entire day. It was well past ten at night, and Miranda was still in the office rectifying her subordinate's error.

Stephen had called her to complain about missing their anniversary dinner, but she had ignored the call since she was already wading through enough stress. She reconciled herself to listening to his whining when she finally was able to go home, which wasn't going to take that much longer. She was going over one last detail, and everything torn asunder would be rectified. She changed one last thing, and then released a heavy breath. She took off her glasses and let her eyes finally rest for a moment.

She could hear Emily trying to sound busy, and could even hear the distance sound of a vacuum cleaner. The cleaning crew had come and were bothering themselves with the offices furthest away from hers. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around her desk, satisfied with all that she had accomplished. She turned away from it, and then walked out the door, not bothering to pay Emily any attention even as Emily placed a coat in one hand and her purse in the other.

She continued on to the elevator and walked inside of it. She waited for the doors to close before she leaned against the nearest wall and closed her eyes. The elevator chime sounded and she forced her eyes open, thinking that she had all too quickly reached the ground floor. She was surprised when her eyes fell upon the equally tired looking Andrea Sachs.

Andrea grunted out a hello before she entered the elevator, and then leaned herself against the opposite side of the elevator. They rode together in silence, and kept it even as the elevator opened and they were forced to walk the distance to the exit. Andrea pushed the door open for Miranda, and for whatever reason, Miranda allowed her pity to speak for her, "Would you like a ride home? I assume you would take the subway otherwise."

A thankful smile quickly overtook the other woman's face. "I would love a ride."

Miranda walked towards the car waiting for her, expecting Andrea to silently follow. She fell down into the backseat and a few moments later Andrea fell in beside her. Her chauffer closed the door and all too quickly Miranda was one step closer to her confrontation with Stephen.

"There's a huge car show that just ended," Andrea started to say, successfully capturing Miranda's attention. "I would have never imagined so much work goes into covering all these details."

"The end result of a publication often looks like it would be much more simplistic than the actual effort it takes to create it," Miranda explained.

Andrea chuckled. "Well then you can consider my ignorance rectified." She leaned further down in the seat. "Nate is going to kill me. I haven't been home before ten at all this week."

That was a sentiment Miranda could relate to, but she wouldn't confess to it. "Has the time you've spent on your project been necessary?"

"Yes," Andrea immediately replied. "Of course it has been. I wouldn't have bothered with it otherwise."

Miranda nodded. "And are you proud of your work?"

Andrea appeared to be giving due consideration to the question asked. "I am," she eventually answered. "This is the first time I've done anything like this, and although Auto Universe hasn't completely won me over, I still want to do the best I can do."

Miranda rolled her gaze away from the younger woman. "Then, Nate should understand your absence."

Andrea sighed. "I wish it was that simple." She combed her fingers through her hair. "Honestly, he's probably not even home. He's been going out with a mutual friend of ours. So, I'm probably going to go home to an empty apartment."

Miranda envied that. "I should be so lucky," she unintelligibly muttered.

The rest of their ride was spent in silence. Eventually, the car pulled up to what Miranda assumed was Andrea's residence. The chauffer got out of the vehicle and opened the door for Andrea, and Andrea began to step out but stopped herself and turned back to Miranda. "You know, I still don't know your name and I'm not sure you'd appreciate me calling you my Elevator Buddy."

Miranda swallowed and then softly said, "Miranda."

"Miranda…" Andrea seemed to be rolling the name around in her head, evaluating it. "I like it, and I can't quite tell you just how grateful I am for the ride."

"No thanks necessary," Miranda brushed Andrea's thanks aside.

"Okay," Andrea nodded. "Have a good night, Miranda." She said and then stepped out of the car. Miranda watched her walk towards the building and then into it. Once Andrea had completely disappeared, Miranda closed her eyes and shook her head. She was all too sure that she was suffering from an extreme case of fatigue since she had so willingly shared part of her late night with a complete stranger.

Roy returned to the driver's seat, and drove Miranda in the opposite direction towards her own home. When she entered it, she cautiously walked up the stairs and waited for Stephen to make an appearance. It didn't take him long to seek her out. He had a glass of Scotch in his hand and was still wearing his suit from what was supposed to be their anniversary dinner. Miranda pushed aside her thoughts of the car ride she had just shared and focused on her husband instead. She said her apologies and made her excuses, but in the end it meant very little, and on their third year anniversary they ended up sleeping in separate beds.


	2. Chapter 2

James Holt's designs had improved significantly from Miranda's gentle direction, but as she came to the particular design he had not taken her input on, she had an unexpected urge to vomit. She had warned him about making rash creative decisions without her seeing the designs first, and it would seem that he had yet to dampen his flare for the ridiculous. She closed her eyes and gave a quick shake of her head as she recalled the disastrous showing she had just been subjected to. Fortunately, she had intervened at an early enough juncture, that it gave him time to correct his mistake before too many people found out about it. The kind of mistake he had made was the type that had the power to ruin careers.

Miranda approached the Elias-Clarke building and did her best to push the dreadful design out of her mind so that she could get as much work done as possible before she rushed off to meet up with Stephen. She was still trying to make amends for her absentee status at their anniversary, so had promised to go to dinner with him and spend the entire night devoted solely to his company. She was already beginning to have suspicions that she might not be able to make it since she had already given so much time to James Holt and still had a full schedule to work through.

Briefly, she thought of calling Stephen and rescheduling, but she stopped herself from starting an argument so early in her day. She could still try and make their date, even if she would be arriving late. She went back to her office and worked steadily for five hours before she was available enough to leave. By the time she stepped onto the elevator she was already an hour late for her dinner date, and knew there was no point in her showing up at all. Stephen would have already left the restaurant most likely drunk and angry.

She pulled out her phone and slowly scrolled through her contact list until Stephen's name was highlighted. She took in a deep breath before she hit the talk button. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she pulled the phone to ear and listened to the rings that let her know Stephen was moments away from unleashing his anger, again. Her phone beeped and she looked down at it, inordinately pleased that it read 'connection lost'. At least, she could tell Stephen she had tried to call. It would be her only defense to his accusations of her being an uncaring bitch.

She dropped her phone back in her purse, and waited for the elevator to arrive at the ground floor. When it did, she stepped out of it and began walking out of the building but stopped when she heard Andrea Sach's voice arguing with someone. Miranda turned towards the sound and saw Andrea on her own phone looking frustrated. "Nate, I'm sorry but I really can't talk to you about this now," Andrea harshly whispered. "Look, I'm sorry I missed dinner with your parents." Her eyes began to tear. "I know and I'm sorry but…" Her shoulders sagged in defeat. "Fine, we'll talk when I get home." She dropped her phone away from her ear, her eyes still focused on it as she turned around. When she finally lifted her gaze she jumped back, obviously not expecting Miranda to be watching over her.

Andrea wiped at her eyes and gave a pathetic smile. "Hey, Miranda."

"You should have made the call in the elevator," Miranda advised.

A look of confusion swept over Andrea's face. "But I don't get a signal in the elevator."

Miranda smirked. "Exactly."

The look of confusion stayed a moment longer, but understanding soon washed over her. "Maybe you're right." She wiped at her eyes again.

"Of course I am," Miranda replied. "I'm not sure it will truly benefit you, but would you like a ride home." The act would be selfish, since it would give her a chance to put off seeing Stephen for at least another half hour.

Andrea shook her head. "No. Believe it or not," she snorted, "I'm really not in a hurry to get home tonight. I think I'm too tired to argue."

It was a sentiment Miranda more than understood so against her better judgment she took pity on the younger woman. "Then I'll take you to dinner," she offered. "I seem to have missed another anniversary dinner with my husband." She hadn't planned on confessing her own reluctance to return home, but it had slipped out before she could reel it back in.

Andrea grinned. "I know I should refuse, but I'm just going to go ahead and accept." She placed her own phone inside of her purse. "Maybe it will give Nate a chance to calm down first."

Miranda nodded, but said nothing else. She walked out to her waiting car, knowing Andrea would silently follow. She let Andrea choose where they would get their late meal, since she knew any place she chose would be filled with people who would know exactly who she was and she didn't want to go through the scene that would surely play out if Andrea discovered the truth.

They ended up in a small family run Mediterranean restaurant that Miranda had never heard of before. The first thing they ordered was strong wine and only bothered with food when their server announced that the kitchen would soon be closing.

"How is the new assistant coming along?" Andrea asked after taking another sip of her red wine.

"New assistant?" Miranda set down her own glass. "Oh, she was fired. We've had to hire someone else."

"Wow," Andrea softly exclaimed, "she didn't last very long. She must have not been very good."

"She wasn't," Miranda replied. "A mistake of hers cost me a great deal."

"Then," Andrea smiled, "I guess that means she deserved it."

"She did." Miranda picked up her wineglass. "How is Auto Universe?"

Andrea softly groaned. "Well, I'm learning a lot and the guys are kind of looking at me more like a colleague instead of a sex object so that's good."

Miranda smirked. "So, you've not discovered that Auto Universe is a hidden passion?"

Andrea laughed. "No," she shook her head, "I'm afraid I haven't. But, I am getting better and Ken, my boss, thinks I might be ready to work on an article of my own soon. From what I understand, I wouldn't have gotten the same opportunity at Runway."

Miranda stiffened. "Andrea, Auto Universe is hardly at the same caliber as Runway."

"Oh, I know," Andrea quickly responded. "Believe me, I know. Ever since I learned I missed out on the opportunity to work at Runway I've been reading through the magazine to torture myself with the thoughts of greener pastures."

Miranda relaxed her body. "You have?" That would explain the marginally improved attire Andrea had taken to wearing. "And what…do you think of it?"

"What do I think of it?" Andrea leaned her elbows onto the table. "I'm not sure, really. It's easy to see why it's one of the best fashion magazines ever, but I'm not sure why so much money is being thrown into something that seems so trivial."

Miranda forced herself to stay relaxed. She didn't want to come across as too defensive. "Then, perhaps it's possible you don't fully understand the full spectrum of what something so 'trivial' has managed to influence. Do you recall that," Miranda errantly waved her hand towards Andrea's body, "blue sweater you wearing during one of the first times we came across one another on the elevator?"

"Um…" Andrea's eyes shifted around but eventually met with Miranda's. "Yeah. I remember it."

"You do?" Miranda nodded. "Good." She cleared her throat. "Well, what you probably don't know is that sweater is not just blue. It's not turquoise. It's not lapis. It's actually cerulean. You probably also don't realize that in 2002 Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns, and then it was Yves Saint Laurent, I believe, who showed cerulean military jackets. And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers." She took a casual sip of her wine. "And then it, uh, filtered down through the department stores and trickled further down into…" She stopped herself from saying anything too offensive and took a quick breath. "However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs. So, it's sort of comical how you perceive it to be so 'trivial' when in fact, you were wearing a sweater that was selected for you by individuals like those on the Runway staff."

"Okay," Andrea drew out the word. "It's obvious you know more about fashion than I do."

Their server arrived then and quickly placed their food out in front of them. He then hurried off and left them to enjoy their meal. Miranda leaned forward and poked at the food below her, still trying to decide if she wanted to risk eating it.

"So do you work at Runway?" Andrea asked, seemingly having little problem with eating the food sitting in front of her.

"Hmm," Miranda replied as she finally brought a forkful of what she had been told was eggplant to her lips.

Andrea chuckled. "You know, I just realized I probably should have known that. I remember that on the first day I met you, you got off the elevator on Runway's floor and were even holding some kind of notebook or something with Runway written on it." She shook her head. "It's been a long couple of months."

"As you become more successful, the months will only get longer." Miranda took another bite of her food, realizing that the appearance of it did not do justice to the actual taste.

"Yeah," Andrea sighed. "For some reason, I was afraid that would be the case."

They continued eating, only commenting on the food and consciously halted any conversation about their personal or work lives. It was Andrea who gave in first and decided to return home, to Miranda's mild disappointment. She would have preferred to stay away from Stephen for the entire night, but knew that wouldn't be fair to Andrea who seemed intent on carrying out an argument with this Nate person. So, after two bottles of wine and surprisingly edible food, they walked back to Miranda's car and Miranda took Andrea home.

Andrea thanked Miranda for the dinner and the company and then jokingly added, "Wish me luck," before she stepped out of the car and walked into her building.

Miranda walked into her own home not long after, and instead of walking up the stairs went to the kitchen instead. She removed a bottle of San Pellegrino and quickly drank its contents, knowing she was slightly inebriated and not in any condition to face off with her husband. She stayed downstairs for almost an hour before she made her way slowly towards her inevitable fate. And as expected, Stephen was sitting in a chair waiting for her.

"I'd accuse you of having an affair," he told her, "but you're too damn honest for that."

Miranda took a seat in the chair next to his. "I tried calling you." It wasn't a lie. She had tried, once, and simply hadn't tried again. "I couldn't get a signal out."

He humorlessly chuckled. "Oh Miranda, is that really the excuse you're going to use this time?"

Miranda dropped her head into her hands. "It's been a long day, Stephen."

"Of course it has." Stephen slowly stood. "It always is." He walked away from her then, but stopped just shy of reaching the stairs that lead up to guestrooms. "You know what, Miranda? I think this time it's your turn to sleep as a guest in your own home." He turned towards their bedroom and walked towards it instead. Miranda didn't watch him leave, and forced herself to not react as she heard the door lock behind him.

Miranda was almost ready to leave Runway so that she could prepare for the museum benefit being held that night. Her new second assistant, Amanda, was proving adequate and Miranda felt comfortable enough with telling her to attend the benefit as well since Emily had unfortunately gotten ill at an inopportune time. She hadn't given Amanda proper time to prepare, but Miranda felt that having extra time was more often than not an extravagant luxury.

She decided to check her email one last time before she shut down her computer and left. She was more than a little startled to see an email from Andrea_Sachs . She didn't have the slightest clue how Andrea would have managed to find her email address, but figured it wasn't really worth discovering. She opened the email and just stopped herself from letting a burst of laughter escape.

"Dear Ms. Miranda Priestly," the email read. "It has recently come to my attention that I am the most clueless human being to have ever walked the planet. After casually mentioning our acquaintance to my superiors and then having to peel them off of the floor, I was told you are and I quote, 'The Miranda Priestly' from Runway. I was also told that since I am the only one on this floor that can stomach your 'condescending arrogance' that I now must attend a benefit you are hosting tonight. I think I am expected to grovel. Somehow, I think I'll manage, Andrea."

Miranda read through the email four times before she closed it and finally left her office. She thought periodically about what kind of shock Andrea must have suffered through when the editors of Auto Universe had revealed just who she had a short couple weeks prior shared a meal with. Miranda was unsure of how exactly Andrea would approach her now that the veil had been broken. Against her better judgment, she looked forward to seeing exactly how much things would change between them.

When she finally descended the stairs at the benefit into the throng of people waiting for her, she did not see Andrea but it was difficult for her to distinguish one face in so many. Emily and Amanda approached her, and Miranda's night began. She interacted with her guests and did her best to keep her distance from Jacqueline Follet who had arrogantly showed up on the arm of Irv Ravitz. It was well past time she started paying more attention to that particular relationship, but she had yet been presented with a suitable answer to her lingering inquiry of just how she could effectively remove Jacqueline from her life.

She was contemplating just that when she saw Andrea tentatively walk up to her with a reluctant young man following behind. "Ms. Priestly," Andrea nervously called out. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend Nate."

Miranda fixed a stern look on her face as she looked over Andrea's appearance. "Andrea, it's a surprise to see you." The dress wasn't at all bad. Andrea cleaned up well. "Normally, the editors of your, um, publication aren't believers of fancy parties."

"Yeah. It wasn't entirely expected." Andrea mumbled.

"It's not the best birthday I've ever had," Nate guilelessly added.

Andrea's eyes widened and then she slapped Nate on the shoulder. "Nate," she chastised.

"What?" Nate looked between the two women.

Miranda narrowed her eyes. "Well, it's a shame my hard work does not meet your," her eyes clawed over Nate's body, "discernable expectations." She looked back to Andrea. "If you'll excuse me," she began to walk away. "Do enjoy the rest of your evening."

As she walked away, she heard Andrea clearly tell Nate, "You're being an ass; you know that, right?" Miranda shook her head, and then turned her attention ahead of her where Irv was standing in a circle of very important people. She sidled up next to him and joined in on the conversation. She must have been standing there for less than five minutes when she saw her husband approach. She saw the trouble in his eyes and knew what was coming when he e drunkenly yelled out, "Hey, when do we eat?"

She quickly went up to him and tried to stop his rambling before an incident happened that she couldn't easily rectify. Unfortunately, she couldn't manage to silence him and he insulted Irv by calling him, "a little man" that could retrieve him another drink. It was humiliating and would have been worse if, for some reason, Andrea hadn't been standing by and interloped by grabbing onto Irv's arm and turning his attention to her. Miranda didn't have any idea how Andrea had managed to keep Irv's attention, but she was thankful for it since it gave her a chance to guide Stephen towards the dance floor. She thanked Andrea over Stephen's shoulder and made sure that after their dance Stephen was escorted home. She preferred to finish the night dateless than to risk Stephen saying or doing something else that would embarrass her any further.

Eventually, the evening wound down and Miranda was more than prepared to leave. She was almost out the door when a familiar voice pulled her back in, "Don't I at least get a ride home?"

Miranda looked past Andrea towards the crowd of people that still lingered inside. "Where's your boyfriend?"

Andrea helplessly shrugged. "I had to send him home."

Miranda knowingly laughed. "Come on." She turned away again and walked to the limousine that was waiting for her.

"It's kind of funny, isn't it?" Andrea said as she slid into the backseat. "I finally include Nate and he doesn't want to be included."

"Touché," Miranda tiredly responded. "So," she looked over Andrea's attired for the evening once more, "you've finally discovered my secret."

Andrea's let her forehead fall into the palm of her right hand. "Yeah, I know. I'm an idiot. But," she slowly lifted her head, "I think I'm probably pretty lucky, too."

"Why do you say that?" Miranda was genuinely curious. She hadn't thought of it as a matter concerning luck at all. Perhaps a hint of lunacy was involved, but not luck.

"If things had turned out a little differently," Andrea confessed, "I really don't think I'd be sitting in this swanky car with you right now." She shrugged again. "Things would just be different, and I can't imagine it being any better."

"Better?" Miranda laughed. "You do realize you're sitting in this limousine with me and not your boyfriend, correct?"

"Yeah." Andrea laughed and dropped her gaze. "I don't know. It's probably crazy, and you're probably more than ready to kick me out of the moving vehicle right now."

Miranda thought back to how her life was going in the four months prior to Andrea naively entering the elevator. Somehow, they had stumbled into some sort of absurd friendship that Miranda found had become one of the few highlights of her life. "Let me buy you a drink. I have a feeling home is not the best place for either of us right now."

Andrea slowly raised her gaze and eventually locked onto Miranda's eyes. "I'd really like that."


	3. Chapter 3

Miranda was drowning in preparations for the Paris fashion week, and since Emily had carelessly been run over by a taxicab, she was going to end up going to Paris with an assistant she didn't have complete confidence in and another who was practically useless. She had thought about hiring a third assistant just to help for that week, but unfortunately her budget wouldn't allow it. So, Emily would still be going to Paris even if she had to crawl on one leg the entire time. Meanwhile, Miranda was going to look into exactly how much money she could receive in punitive damages from the taxi company. She would own them by the time her lawyers were done with the whole absurd situation.

It was another late night in the office, as most every other night of hers had been in recent memory. Emily was still laid up and recovering as much as she could before Paris and Amanda was out trying to do the jobs of two assistants. Miranda honestly didn't know what state she would have been in if Andrea hadn't paid attention to the rumors floating around the building about the downfall of Paris. She hadn't asked Andrea where or whom she had exactly heard the rumors from, but hadn't denied them when Andrea showed up outside of her office after hours offering what assistance she could. At the time, it had been against her better judgment to accept the offer, but since she was left with very few options, she had handed over a load of work to Andrea and had even taken the time out to train Andrea herself so that everything was done to her expectations.

That had been a week ago and Miranda finally felt her uncertainty finally calming. Andrea proven to be surprisingly competent and hadn't once asked for any sort of monetary reimbursement. She had said she was simply helping out a friend. The notion seemed almost wildly foreign to Miranda, but she was not going to question it. She didn't have that luxury.

"Have you solved world hunger yet?" Andrea's voice called out from Miranda's office door.

Miranda slowly lifted her eyes away from the prints laid out in front of her. "If not for your interruption, I might have."

Andrea laughed as she held up a plastic bag. "Hopefully, feeding you will be bribery enough for you to forgive me." She walked into the office and started laying out the contents of the bag on the small table away from Miranda's desk. "It's not a two hundred dollar meal or anything, but it's the best twenty dollars could buy."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "If you had said you were hungry, I could have given you my credit card." Unconsciously, Miranda took a step towards the food.

"Then it wouldn't have been me buying now would it?" Andrea finished laying out the food and then tossed the empty plastic bag in the general direction of the trashcan.

Miranda's hands went to her hips. "You're destroying my office," she said her eyes focused on the bag on her floor.

Andrea shrugged. "I'll pick it up in a moment." She flipped open one of the Styrofoam containers and then picked up a pair of chopsticks.

Miranda let her hands drop down. "Fine." She walked over to the food. "So, what are you poisoning me with tonight?"

"It's from a place called Sukho-Thai," Andy explained. "It's good."

"I should have given you my credit card," Miranda muttered before she grabbed hold of one of the containers and her own pair of chopsticks. She sat down next to Andrea and then began poking at her food before she could bring herself to eat it. She was still unsure why she had allowed Andrea to subject her to such dreadful looking concoctions.

"So," Andrea swallowed a bit of food. "I've got this thing to go to for my friend Lily. She works at this small gallery and uh, I thought you might want to tag along."

Miranda released her hold on her chopsticks. "Tag along?"

"Miranda, you need to get out of this office," Andrea reasoned. "It'll be fun, and just imagine how everyone there will react to having you in their undeserving presence."

"No." Miranda picked back up her chopsticks and stuck one of them through a piece of tofu.

Andrea rolled her eyes. "You can bring Stephen if you want. Nate's coming so that will give them a chance to act like idiots together."

"No." Miranda repeated.

"Fine." Andrea laid down her food. "I didn't want to do this, but I'm going to." She clasped her hands together. "You, Miranda Priestly, owe me and you are going to pay me back by going to a gallery showing that will be full of starving artists such as myself."

Knowing that she would have ended up going anyway, specifically for the reasons Andrea had already stated, Miranda wasn't too terribly offended by Andrea calling in her debt. "I'll try and convince Stephen to come along." She set her food back onto the table. "I need to get back to work."

Andrea looked down at the food. "You haven't really eaten…"

Miranda held up her hand. "Don't," she warned.

"Fine." Andrea gathered up the rest of the food. "I need to get home."

"Very well." Miranda walked back over to her desk. She knew Andrea's statement was more of a suggestion that they both end their night, but Miranda felt no need to go home just yet. "You can take the car if you'd like."

"Well okay." Andrea blew out a long breath. "I'll email you the details for the gallery showing."

"Hmm," Miranda grunted her attention already on the items still littering her desk. She knew she was acting somewhat unfriendly, but she didn't appreciate anyone telling her what to do. She knew her limits and did not need people reminding her of them.

Andrea lingered in the office for a moment more before she turned and walked out. Miranda couldn't help but notice that Andrea had left the plastic bag on the floor in an act of silent defiance.

In an amateurish effort at retaliation, Stephen had refused Miranda's invitation to the gallery showing. He feigned having to work, and told Miranda she'd have to deal with going alone. Miranda was sure that in some small way he had to believe that he was hurting her, but she was honestly happy to be given the opportunity to go out free of a guilty conscience for once. She had asked for his time and he had been the one who refused. She wasn't the one standing him up. She wasn't the one, once again, doing something to him. To not be the wronging party felt wonderful after having so long been the one making all the mistakes.

She drove herself to the gallery, hoping to not draw too much attention to herself while she was amongst Andrea's friends. The night wasn't about her and she didn't want it to be. She walked into the gallery, and was surprised when a woman immediately approached her as if she were greeting an old friend. "Miranda," the woman held out her hand, "it's nice to finally meet you. Andy told me you might be stopping by. I'm Lily."

Miranda looked down at the hand in front of her knowing she didn't want to shake this woman's hand, but doing it anyway. "Andrea has spoken highly of you," she commented as she pulled back her hand. "Everything looks," she quickly took in the photographs surrounding her, "impressive."

Lily widely smiled. "Thank you. If you want to meet any of the artists then just let me know."

"Of course." Miranda knew Lily's offer was code for 'let me know if you want to buy anything'. She suspected she was one of the few people at the showing that would have the money to purchase one of the more extravagant pieces.

"Oh my god," Miranda heard a male voice gasp out from behind her.

"I'm going to apologize in advance," Lily said before Miranda had a chance to turn around.

"Andy said you might show up, but I didn't believe her," the man behind her gushed.

"And you are?" Miranda asked, taking a step away.

"Doug," he shoved out his hand. "My name is Doug, and I can't believe you're standing in front of me right now."

Miranda was saved from having to respond when Andrea finally appeared and grabbed onto Lily. "This show is amazing," she told her friend. "I am so proud of you."

"Thank you," Lily replied. "Okay, start with the photos in the back," she pointed over her right shoulder, "and work your way forward." She turned back to Andrea. "That is the way I designed it. It is brilliant. You will love it."

"Of course," Andrea playfully agreed.

"And you," Lily turned back to Doug. "I have somebody I want you to meet, okay?"

Doug finally tore his attention away from Miranda. "Ooh, art and sex. Lead the way."

"See you later," Lily told Andrea as she grabbed onto Doug's hand. "And please," she said to Miranda, "let me know if there's anything at all you want to know or there's anyone you want to talk to."

"I appreciate it," Miranda replied as she watched Lily drag Doug away.

"Hopefully that wasn't too painful," Andrea apologized.

Miranda smirked. "Consider us even."

"Deal," Andrea laughed. "So, I guess Stephen didn't want to be your date tonight?"

Miranda shook her head. "No. And what about Nate?"

Andrea sighed. "He's on his way." She rolled her eyes. "Would you believe he had to work late?"

"Imagine that," Miranda softly replied. "Stephen had the same excuse."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "So," she blew out a breath. "Should we start at the back and make our way forward? I don't know when Nate is going to arrive and I would rather not stand here wondering if you're bored or not."

"Lead the way." Miranda stepped aside so that Andrea could walk ahead of her.

They walked to the back of the gallery and began walking through it. Miranda reluctantly admitted that some of the pieces showed promise. They had only gone by a few of the pieces when Lily came up to them again. "I'm sorry to bother you, Miranda, but one of the artists would really like to meet you and I wanted to check with you to see if it was okay before I told him to come over."

"Miranda you don't have to," Andrea immediately began to protest, but Miranda cut off her words.

"I'd be happy to meet him."

"Wow, really?" Lily seemed surprised. "That's great. He's right over here." She pointed across the room. "I'll take you to him." She started to walk away. "Excuse us, Andy," she called over her shoulder.

Miranda gave Andrea one last look before she followed Lily to a young man who looked more than a little nervous. He was sweating slightly and she could see that his hands were shaking. Lily made the introductions and then, only as a busy host would, left them to strike up their own conversation. Miranda listened to the young photographer talk about his work and how inspirational he found her. She stood and listened with as much patience as she could muster, not wanting to do anything that would cause embarrassment for Andrea's friend.

The photographer was a young talent, and Miranda knew that given some more time he might be good enough for her to consider working with. The man's monologue was disrupted when Miranda heard Lily arguing with Andrea. She couldn't hear the beginning of their exchange, but she did hear Lily exclaim, "You know, the Andy I know is madly in love with Nate, is always five minutes early and thinks, I don't know, Club Monaco is couture." She shrugged her shoulders in frustration. "For the last sixteen years, I've known everything about that Andy. But this person? This 'glamazon' who skulks around in corners with some random hot fashion guy, and talks about the latest concept cars?" Lily shook her head. "I don't get her."

"Lily…" Andrea called out as her friend began to walk away.

"Have fun in Paris," Lily continued to walk away back into the crowd ignoring Andrea's attempt to call her back.

Miranda excused herself from the young photographer and began to approach Andrea but stilled her movement when she saw Nate. "You going to Paris?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah." Andy turned to Nate. "It just happened."

"I thought you said you didn't want to cover the car show there or…"

"Great," Andrea cut him off. "Now you're gonna give me a hard time, too?" She brushed by Nate and then headed straight towards the exit.

Miranda watched Nate follow but chose not to chase them down. She had no business involving herself in their argument. Although, she was a little surprised Andrea hadn't told Nate about her plans to travel to Paris for work. She had spoken to Miranda about it before she had accepted her editor's offer. Andrea had already known that Miranda had spent some time in Paris. While, it was true Miranda had never bothered to go to the car show that was held at the Porte de Versailles convention center, she had seen much of the city and knew it wasn't something anyone should easily pass up on. She had said as much to Andrea when Andrea had sought out her advice.

"I shouldn't have done that," Lily's voice tore Miranda's attention away from the window she had been looking out of.

"No," Miranda turned to Andrea's friend. "You shouldn't have."

Lily tapped her finger against her champagne flute. "I know. It's just that Andy's changing so much and sometimes it's hard to keep up with it all."

"I guess that means you haven't changed at all in the last year," Miranda turned her gaze back to the window. "How fortunate for you. We should all be so lucky to achieve such stagnation."

"Okay," Miranda could see Lily nodding from their reflection in the glass. "I get your point." She sipped her champagne and watched the argument going on outside of her gallery. "I don't think now would be a good time to apologize, though."

"Probably not," Miranda agreed. "But if you're going to do it," she turned to face Lily, "then do it soon. Before she flies to another continent."

Lily smiled. "Yes, ma'am," she jokingly responded.

"Excuse me," Miranda stepped away from Lily and towards the exit. She opened the door just in time to hear Nate call out, "I hope you're very happy by yourself," before he walked away effectively ending whatever argument they were having.

Andrea wiped at her eyes and then turned back towards the gallery. She stumbled backwards when she saw Miranda watching her. "Well, tonight isn't really going the way I thought it would," she said as she wiped at her eyes again. "I'm sorry about all this."

Miranda closed the distance between them. "There's no reason to apologize."

Andrea took in a deep breath. "So you're the one in all the world that I don't owe an apology to?" She sarcastically asked. "Amazing."

"Hmm, yes." Miranda chose to not become offended by Andrea's sarcasm, knowing just how difficult a situation like this could really be. "How about that?"

Andrea closed her eyes. "I've really messed up, Miranda. Lily is right. I hardly even recognize myself anymore."

"That's to be expected. I think the real question you should be asking yourself is whether or not you recognize the person you're becoming." Miranda brushed her hair away from her eyes. "Only a lucky few can really look at themselves and recognize exactly who and what they are."

"I don't know," Andrea helplessly shrugged. "It's all sort of confusing right now."

Miranda nodded her understanding. "Do you want to go back inside?"

Andrea shook her head. "No, I really don't."

"Good," Miranda jokingly confessed. "If I had stayed much longer I'm sure Lily would have had me buying something."

Andrea lowered her head, but was at least smiling. "Yeah, she can be a little…persistent at times."

Miranda looked around, not particularly sure quite how she should end her evening. She still needed to check on some final details for Paris, and knew she could get away with going to the office without Stephen complaining about her working late again. Andrea was an adult and would be fine handling her relationships on her own. Miranda didn't need to stick around to hold Andrea's hand.

"Did you drive here?" Andrea asked.

Miranda pointed to her Porsche. "I'm parked over there."

Andrea's eyes looked to where Miranda was pointing. "Give me your keys."

"What?"

Andrea turned to Miranda and then reached out her hand, palm facing upwards. "Hand me your keys."

Against her better judgment, Miranda reached inside of her purse and then pulled out her keys. "You're not driving my car."

Andrea quickly reached out and snatched Miranda's keys from her loose grip. "Oh, I am." She hurried toward the car.

Miranda followed her. "And where are you going?"

Andrea pulled open the driver's side door. "Anywhere but here."

Miranda rolled her eyes, as she opened the passenger's side door. "Would that be anywhere near 'somewhere over the rainbow'?" She sarcastically asked.

Andrea put the key in the ignition. "I just learned how to drive a standard," she confessed as she situated herself behind the wheel.

"You better not kill me, Andrea Sachs," Miranda warned.

"I wouldn't think of it," Andrea replied as she revved the engine. She winked at Miranda before she pulled out of the parking space and sped down the street and away from the gallery. Miranda shook her head, and again wondered just why she was letting Andrea get away with hijacking her car. She already let Andrea get away with so much, too much most likely. She sighed and then turned to the window and watched the buildings fly past them.

Twenty minutes later, Andrea pulled into a parking space near a coffee shop. "We're here," she announced as she turned off the engine and then pulled out the key. She jumped out of the car and Miranda reluctantly followed.

"Where is here?" She asked as she shut the car door.

"This," Andrea sighed. "This is my place."

"Your place?" Miranda questioned, well aware that Andrea didn't mean she owned the building.

"It's the place I go to when the world hates me," Andrea explained. "None of my friends know about it, and neither does Nate."

Miranda swallowed, and then asked, "Why am I hear, Andrea?"

Andrea turned confused eyes towards Miranda. "I don't really know." She wiped at her forehead. "Let's go inside." She handed Miranda the car keys and then walked towards the small hole in the wall place Miranda doubted she would have ever found on her own.

Andrea went to get them coffee while Miranda waited at a table in the corner. Miranda looked around, and quickly realized this was another one of those places Andrea took her to where no one inside would know her name. No one here seemed to care anything about fashion, all of them obviously too busy contemplating the troubles of the world to focus on something like the upcoming Paris fashion shows. There were some people typing away on their laptops, while other's hade their heads bowed down reading through books that all had titles pertaining to the social injustices of the world. There was a woman softly playing a guitar on what Miranda assumed was supposed to be a stage.

The atmosphere of the place practically screamed out Andrea's name. It wasn't at all surprising to Miranda that Andrea would deem this little piece of nowhere as 'my place'. Andrea fit in here, despite all the outwardly changes Andrea had gone through the last several months.

"Are you still working on solving world hunger?" Andrea asked as she sat a coffee cup down in front of Miranda.

Miranda wrapped her hands around the warm cup. "This place suits you," she said, choosing to ignore the question Andrea normally asked when she caught her deep in thought. "Thank you for sharing it with me." For a woman who held so tightly onto her privacy, Miranda knew not to take for granted the gift Andrea was sharing with her.

Andrea looked down at her cup. "I had to share it with someone," she softly replied. "It might as well be with someone who can appreciate it."

"Well then," Miranda lifted up her glass and held it out towards Andrea. "To Paris then?"

Andrea chuckled softly as she lifted her own glass. "To Paris."


	4. Chapter 4

Paris was going…well it was going exactly how Paris normally went. At every corner there were bright lights flashing, loud music playing, and there was the faint scent of scandal in the air. Too many people were packed into too small of a place and everyone was vibrating from the energy. Dreams were being made and destroyed in a single breath and, as always, Miranda was in the very middle of it all. Her position within the fashion community meant that she was guaranteed a front row seat anywhere she wanted, and she was given passes to get into all the great parties. It was in no one's interest to get on her bad side; though, Miranda knew there were certain rumors that suggested all of her sides were 'bad'. She was supposedly as insidiously evil as the serpent that tempted Eve, the difference being that she held Paradise in her hands and could offer it out to others she thought worthy of it.

Miranda understood it was easy for people to judge her since they more often than not weren't burdened with maintaining a throne under the constant threat of mutiny. She was not happy with how she knew her week at Paris was going to end, and knew better than to sing of her own virtues, but she also knew she would walk away proud of what she had managed to accomplish. For the moment, however, she cast the thoughts of her coming days far from her mind. Now was not the time to dwell on the uncomfortable aspects of her immediate future. It was best she just live in the moment.

She had invited Andrea to one of the last shows in hopes of successfully exposing the aspiring journalist to some of the VIPs that were attending the event. While she was sure the Paris auto show provided unique access to certain publishers, Miranda knew that the two events could not be equally compared. Simply put, Miranda knew she was among people who were more important, more powerful, and most likely more intelligent than those drooling over the new car of the year.

Miranda turned to see where Andrea had been brushed off to in the crowd, and quickly found her engaging in a conversation with Christian Thompson. Andrea turned away from Christian and met Miranda's eyes, and then immediately excused herself. She met up with Miranda at the exit and together they walked to Miranda's car and then slid into it. Andrea's face was flushed, but she was smiling and was carrying the energy of child who had just been unleashed into the wonders of Disney World.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me we were going to be in front of so many cameras," Andrea moaned. "That was insane!"

"No, Andrea," Miranda gently corrected. "That is my life."

"Then your life is insane." Andrea joked. "There's probably just as many cameras at the auto show, but none of them are focused on me."

"How is the show coming along?" Miranda held no real interest in it, but knew Andrea was taking her work seriously so thought she should at least give Andrea the chance to speak about her own experiences in Paris away from fashion.

"It weird," Andrea shook her head. "I think I'm starting to get as excited about it as everyone else there. Tomorrow a new Alfa Romeo is being revealed. They're trying to get back into the U.S. Market and rumor has it that they're only going to only make five-hundred of them. It'll be interesting and…" Her words faded. "And I should probably stop talking about it, because I'm sure you were just trying to be nice and really don't care about Italian cars."

"Perhaps your friends are right." Miranda smirked. "You have changed. You've gained an interest in something so…trivial. That seems so unlike you, Andrea."

"I know, I know." Andrea's head fell into her hands.

"The new Competizione, is that what you were talking to Christian Thompson about?" Miranda feigned a disinterested tone. She didn't want to appear as if she was policing Andrea's actions or her conversations.

Andrea quickly lifted her head. "Miranda, I didn't say the car was called Competizione. You do care about Italian cars."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "I heard some…" she errantly waved her hand, "one or other mentioning it."

Andrea laughed. "Well in answer to your question, no. Christian and I weren't talking about cars. If you must know, he asked me to dinner."

Miranda had figured as much. She'd seen Christian go through so many women, and was not surprised he had honed in on Andrea. She just happened to be his type: young and naïve. "How did you meet him?"

"At a party," Andrea blithely answered. "And then I saw him again at the museum benefit." She chuckled. "He's so full of himself."

"But that's not going to stop you from going out with him," Miranda knowingly replied.

Andrea's gaze turned towards the window. "I don't know."

Miranda knew. She was certain Andrea would try at having a Paris love affair, just like everyone else who wished to live a cliché. "Stop by my room tonight," she ordered. "I'll have something decent for you to wear." She knew better than to attempt at talking Andrea out of going to dinner with that man. Andrea would have to make her own mistakes; Miranda felt no compulsion to try and protect her from life. Besides, Miranda knew a secret that Andrea didn't. She knew Christian Thompson would pay soon enough for any infraction that might come to pass.

Andrea dropped her jaw in mock outrage. "I can't believe you just said that."

The car rolled to a stop. "Yes," Miranda agreed as her eyes ran across Andrea's clothes. "What was I thinking?"

"Okay, fine." Andrea threw up her hands in defeat. "I'll stop by." The car door was opened for her. "Unfortunately, right now I have to work." She reached out and placed her hand on Miranda's thigh, causing Miranda's muscles to immediately tighten. "Thank you for letting me be your shadow today. It meant a lot to me."

Miranda looked down at the warm hand resting on her leg. The touch was so foreign and not just because it was Andrea touching her. She couldn't immediately recall the last time another adult had so casually laid a hand on her. She was more accustomed to artificial embraces where hardly any contact was made at all, and such a physical distance had formed between her and Stephen that she wasn't sure she would recognize his touch anymore. The contact was as surprisingly comforting as it was uncomfortable. "Goodbye, Andrea," she whispered, unprepared for the rise of emotion that swept over her.

Andrea slowly removed her hand. "Goodbye, Miranda." She turned and then stepped out of the car, leaving Miranda to ride back to her hotel alone.

She pushed aside the uncharacteristically emotive display she had just played a part in, and concentrated on her work instead. When she reached her room, she changed clothes and did her best to rest as much as she could before she was once again running around fulfilling her obligations as the definitive voice in fashion. She had just managed to lay down for a brief nap, when her hotel phone rang. Her instinct told her to ignore the call, but she didn't want to risk missing a call from her girls so she answered.

It was Stephen, not her girls, and he wanted a divorce. He said it so plainly, so forcefully. "We can't keep this going, Miranda. I'm filing for divorce."

Miranda dropped her head and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away tears. "You are a coward Stephen for telling me this now." She harshly responded. "While I am an ocean's span away."

"Don't give me that Miranda," he defended himself. "It's not like I could manage to get your attention long enough to have this conversation."

Miranda kept her eyes closed. "You know how important Paris is Stephen, how busy it keeps me."

"Yes, because it's all about you isn't it, Miranda?" He bitterly replied.

Miranda forced her eyes open. "You're right, it is all about me. It is my name people know and not yours. I am more important than you. I always have been, and I always will be. It is not my fault you could never accept that." She lowered the phone, not at all interested in hearing anything else her husband might say. She set it down and then walked out of the bedroom, knowing she would no longer be able to rest.

She picked up a newspaper to read, wanting to distract herself, but didn't get through much of it. Her brain was unwilling to translate the French. So, she slipped off her glasses and instead stared at the wall in front of her. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting when Emily walked in to drop off some items she had asked for earlier that day.

"Is there anything else you need, Miranda?" Emily helpfully asked.

Miranda knew that her eyes were red and that her body betrayed the fact that she had been crying, and Emily ignored it all. She wasn't brave enough to ask personal questions. "You will no longer need to pick up Stephen from the airport. Rearrange the luncheon's seating chart because he will longer be coming. That's all."

"Yes, Miranda." Emily then hurried out of the room as quickly as she could on crutches. It would have been comical if Miranda had the mind to laugh.

Instead, Miranda rolled her glasses around in her hand, her mind refocusing on her failed marriage. She was startled to see Andrea walk in, having completely forgotten she had told Andrea to come in the first place. Though, she wouldn't mention it. "Oh, there you are." She cleared her throat. "I suppose Emily let you in. We were just going over the seating, uh, chart for the luncheon." She slipped her glasses back on.

Andrea walked further into the room. "Okay, um, did Emily say something to make you cry?" Obliviously, Andrea wasn't as afraid to ask personal questions.

Miranda narrowed her gaze, but the look seemed to be completely ineffective since Andrea moved to sit down next to her. With her wide brown eyes, full of concern, she sat and she patiently waited.

"Stephen isn't coming," Miranda eventually confessed.

"Oh, so I guess that means I won't have a chance to hang out with him tomorrow?" Andrea joked.

"Well," Miranda pulled off her glasses, "if you speak to him and he decides to rethink the divorce, then, please hang out with him as much as you'd like."

Andrea's body stilled, but she said nothing.

Miranda rolled her tongue across her teeth. "When we, I, get back to New York I need to contact, um," she felt like she was going to start crying again, but pushed them away as she turned away from Andrea's sympathetic gaze. "Leslie to see what she can do to minimize the press." Her eyes rolled back to Andrea's. "On all this."

For the second time that day, Andrea reached out and placed an uninvited hand onto Miranda's body. This time, Miranda didn't stiffen, but nor did she relax. She let her tears escape. "Another divorce splashed across page six," she rambled. "I can just imagine what they're going to write about me. 'The Dragon Lady, career-obsessed. Snow Queen drives away another Mr. Priestly.' Rupert Murdoch should cut me a check for all the papers that I sell for him. Anyway," she sighed, "I don't—I don't really care what anyone writes about me." She shook her head. "But my, my girls, I just, it's just so unfair to the girls. It's just…" She forced herself to stop talking for a moment, not quite sure where her talkativeness was coming from. She focused on Andrea, wondering if she would finally be interrupted, but Andrea kept her hand on Miranda's thigh and her voice silent.

So, she kept giving voice to the thoughts that had been stumbling through her mind since she had spoken to Stephen. "It's just another disappointment, another letdown, another father…" she humorlessly laughed, "figure gone. Anyway, the point is…" She cleared her throat again, her voice beginning to fail her. "The point is…" She didn't have one. She couldn't fix this. "I have an empty seat at my table and I think you should probably be the one to fill it."

"I'm so sorry, Miranda," Andrea finally said. "If you want me to cancel my evening, I can."

Miranda pulled away from Andrea. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would you do that?"

Andrea rapidly blinked a few times. "Um, I…well because I'm your friend and I seem to recall you letting me take you to some random coffee house when I knew full well you still had tons to do to get ready for Paris. So…" she closed the distance Miranda had created between them. "Do you want me to cancel?"

Miranda clamped down on her urge to get up and walk away. "No. Anyway, I have plans I can't change."

Andrea nodded, seemingly understanding the obligations Miranda would not walk away from. "Is um, there anything else I can do?"

Taking a chance, Miranda covered Andrea's hand with her own. "Just come to the luncheon tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll be there."

Miranda took a deep breath. "Good." She gently removed Andrea's hand, and then stood up, creating the distance her body had been simultaneously craving and loathing. "Let's get you ready for your evening. Emily just dropped everything off."

Andrea looked as if she wanted to say something else, wanted to object to the forced casualness Miranda was inserting into their conversation, but she refrained. Instead, she stood and followed Miranda's lead, something Miranda was very grateful for. She didn't want to talk about her failed relationship anymore. She didn't want to have to sink down into the emotions dwelling on it would bring. Paris wasn't over, yet. She still had a job to do.

Andrea stayed until the time came for Miranda to prepare for her own evening. They parted on the promise that they would talk again later that night, if necessary, but Miranda knew that they wouldn't share another conversation. Andrea would be swept under Christian's charm and Miranda would do her best to enjoy an evening in the company of Irv and Jacqueline. She may have lost her marriage, but she refused to also lose her job.


	5. Chapter 5

Irv obviously hadn't known what to expect when Miranda had asked him to meet her for breakfast. He seemed hesitant and genuinely intimidated by the prospect of them spending time together with no witnesses around to scream out foul play if the need arose. Miranda was well aware that he was intimidated by her, and she had often used that to her advantage. Perhaps, she had used it too much and made him too bitter, and that was the reason he had so eagerly latched onto the slightest opportunity to fire her.

She had never pandered to his ego, and saw no reason to do so now. She kept the tone of their conversation light, and as friendly as possible. She wanted to blindside him with her unexpected victory, wanted to see the crushed look in his eyes as he realized that she had beaten him once again at his own game. She was preparing to make her move when there was a frantic knocking on the door.

Irv immediately got up to answer it, and Miranda only thought it prudent to follow. She was surprised to see Andrea standing on the other side of the open door, wearing the same clothes she had left in the night before. She stepped in front of Irv, and let the door swing towards her stopping it just before it closed completely.

"Have you lost your mind?" She asked.

"I need to talk to you," Andrea pleaded.

Miranda looked over Andrea's body, seeking out any signs of damage but seeing none. "What in the world is wrong with you? Did something happen last night with Christian?"

"Yes something did," Andrea's words spilled out practically on top of each other. "Well, not what you're probably thinking happened, but no, that did, wait…" She halted her words and then took a deep breath. "It's about Runway."

Miranda rolled her eyes, knowing that she didn't have time for Andrea to try and explain something that was well on its way to being taken care of. "I don't have time for this," she looked over her shoulder to see if Irv was listening in. "I'll see you at the luncheon." She turned to reenter the room, but a tight grip on her arm stopped her.

"Miranda," Andrea tried again.

"I will see you later," Miranda carefully enunciated as her eyes dropped to the hand resting on her forearm.

"Fine.' Andre let her hand slide away. "I'll see you at the luncheon." She stepped away, letting the air of immediacy that surrounded her calm.

Miranda nodded, and then turned her attention back to Irv. He had sat back down and was sipping at his coffee, pretending to not look at all interested in what had been going on outside of the door. "Everything is alright I hope?"

Miranda smiled. "Yes, of course."

"That's the girl from the museum benefit, right?" Irv for whatever reason looked more confident now, more at ease.

"Yes. Her name is Andrea Sachs." She wouldn't let him use Andrea's appearance to his advantage.

"I've heard that name before. The editors of Auto Universe are saying some impressive things about her." He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned further back in his chair. "I'll admit to being a little surprised at you wanting to snatch her away from them so soon."

Miranda gave a faint laugh. "I wouldn't know what you're talking about."

He gave a knowing shake of his head. "Of course not."

Miranda thought Irv looked like he was practically preening from his assumption that he now knew some grand secret of hers. She'd let him keep his assumption and would let him think he had gained something that was not there to gain. It was the lesser risk when put up against him finding out that Andrea was more important than a professional acquisition. "Speaking of talent, however," she sat back down effortlessly segueing back to the conversation she had originally intended to initiate. "I know there's really no need for me to remind you of this, because you would never do anything to jeopardize our working relationship, but in case your attention has been diverted elsewhere…" She reached over and picked up a sheet of paper she had printed out especially for this moment. She let it fall from her fingers down onto the surface of the table directly under Irv's gaze.

He hesitantly reached out to pick it up, his smile turning tentative once more. Gone was his smugness and brief flash of superiority. "What's this about Miranda?"

"It's my list, Irv." She draped her fingers across the top of her coffee cup.

He quickly glanced back up to look at her but couldn't hold her gaze, and just as quickly his eyes dropped again and settled on the paper he now held onto. "Your list?"

"Yes," she cleared her throat. "But for you it is just a reminder of who you will lose if I ever, for whatever reason, leave Runway."

His smile was now completely gone. "So you know." He threw the paper back down onto the table.

Despite their differences, Miranda always respected Irv's unwillingness to dance around a topic. She appreciated directness. "Oh, I know. I have known for quite a while but Jacqueline has been a roadblock I've had to figure out my way around."

"And how exactly are you fucking her over?" His vulgarity didn't shock her. In truth, she welcomed it since it was such a clear sign of just how fully he understood the situation, how easily he recognized his loss.

"I've handed over to her the opportunity of a lifetime."

"James Holt," Irv knowingly replied. "And Nigel?"

Miranda tapped her finger against her cup. "He's very talented," she easily brushed aside the question. "Another opportunity will come his way."

"Then," he stood up, "I guess I'll see you this afternoon."

He was dismissing her, and this time she would let him get away with it. It's all he could do since he was no longer capable of firing her. He could no longer silently gloat about finding a younger, cheaper, whore to do his bidding.

She slowly rose, making sure to meet his eyes the entire time. "I'll let you hang onto that," she pointed to the piece of paper benignly resting on the surface of the table. "We wouldn't want you getting…distracted again."

His eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Miranda turned away from him then, and let herself out. She walked back to her own room, more than satisfied with what she had just accomplished.

Miranda rattled off a list of orders to Emily as she walked into the luncheon. She handed her coat over to Amanda, and then dismissed them both when she saw Andrea impatiently waiting for her. "Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" Andrea asked as soon as Miranda was within whispering distance.

Miranda waved her hand dismissing Andrea's concern. "Later, for now just enjoy the celebration."

"But Miranda, Christian said…"

"Do you really think I care anything at all about what Christian Thompson says?" Miranda interrupted.

"Well, when he says he's going to run all the editorial content for Runway, yes." Andrea argued. "I'd think you'd care."

"Hmm," Miranda turned away from Andrea. "Do you smell freesias?"

Andrea seemed taken aback by the question. "Wh—freesia? Miranda, this is serious."

Miranda turned back to Andrea. "It will be if I see any. I specifically told Emily…"

"Miranda," Andrea tried again.

Before Andrea could continue, Miranda uncharacteristically reached out and grabbed onto Andrea's shaking hand. "Andrea, trust me." She dropped her hand and then continued on into the banquet room. She was immediately surrounded by her guests, and was engaged in conversation. She didn't have the time to talk Andrea and put any lingering doubts Andrea might have had at rest. She still had work to do.

She mingled amongst the guests until it was announced that the food would soon be served. When she finally made it to her table, Andrea was already sitting there conversing with Nigel. She could only guess at what they were talking about, but knew Andrea wouldn't go about telling everyone in the room what Christian Thompson had said. At least, she hoped that Andrea would know better.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself, Andrea." Miranda said as soon as she sat down.

"Yes," Andrea nodded. "Thank you for inviting me."

"She's a smart kid, Miranda." Nigel commented. "I can see why you want to save her from the doom and gloom of Auto Universe."

So the rumors were already being spread. Everyone thought Andrea was an acquisition being groomed for the benefits of Runway. Miranda looked to Andrea, wondering what the woman's reaction would be to Nigel's assumption. Andrea's face revealed mild confusion, and Miranda knew she would be better off ignoring Nigel's comment than responding to it. So, she directed the conversation elsewhere, keeping it far away from any rumors that might effect Andrea's career.

The food was served, and conversation focused on the spectacular designs that had been unveiled throughout the week. Everyone at the table knew better than to ask Miranda for a direct opinion, but still that didn't mean they didn't try to see which designer she might favor. Miranda tactfully held them off, until it was time for Nigel to introduce her so that she could in turn introduce James Holt.

"I like him," Andrea whispered to Miranda as Nigel was making his short speech. "He's a good man."

Miranda sighed. "Yes, he is."

The crowd politely applauded and Nigel left the stage. Miranda rose and took her spot. She thanked Nigel for his kind words, and she continued her prepared speech, not really thinking about the words as she said them. Andrea's harmless little comment had quickly turned Miranda's glorious victory into a simple hollow maneuver. As she announced Jacqueline as the new president for James Holt International, some in the room gasped while others were blithely unaware of what coup had just been tactfully thwarted. Miranda turned her attention to her own table and watched as Nigel's face fell in disappointment and saw Andrea's obvious efforts to understand all that was happening around her. Miranda then turned her eyes away from them, and continued on with her presentation, as if she hadn't said anything particularly important at all.

When it was all over, she told Emily and Amanda to meet her later and offered Andrea a ride, knowing Andrea would have already expected one. The moment the car's doors were firmly shut, Andrea turned to her and simply said, "Explain to me what just happened in there."

Miranda's eyes flickered over Andrea's face and then focused on the space in front of her. "They thought I didn't know." Her eyes turned to the window. "I've known what was happening for quite some time. It just took me a little while to find a suitable alternative for Jacqueline, and that James Holt job was just so absurdly overpaid of course she jumped at it." She laughed at the memory of Jacqueline's ambition. "So, I just had to tell Irv that Jacqueline was unavailable." She finally turned to look back at Andrea. "The truth is that there is no one that can do what I do, including her. Any of the other choices would have found that job impossible and the magazine would have suffered." She sighed, remembering that morning and her breakfast with Irv. "Especially because of 'the list'. The list of designers, photographers, editors, writers, models all of whom who were found by me, nurtured by me and have promised me that they will follow me whenever and if ever I choose to leave Runway." She laughed again, although she was finding less and less humor in the situation as she explained what Andrea had so inadvertently stumbled into.

"I was impressed…" Miranda looked away from Andrea, knowing she'd be unable to give voice to the emotion that needed to be verbalized if forced to look into Andrea's big, guileless, brown eyes. "No," she corrected herself. "I was honored with how intently you tried to warn me. I never thought I'd say this, Andrea." She chuckled releasing her own incredulity. "But I really see…I really feel that there is a certain affinity between us. You can see beyond what people want and what they need, and you can choose for yourself."

"No," Andrea whispered. "I don't—I don't think I'm like that."

Miranda understood Andrea's denial, though she couldn't agree with it. "Well, it's that quality that has enabled you to become my…friend. And I know you've made choices to get ahead. It is a consequence of wanting this life." She finally turned back to Andrea. "Everybody wants this, Andrea. Everybody wants to be us, but there are very few who understand the sacrifices, and the consequences we must face to maintain it. Nigel deserved the James Holt job; it was his before I selfishly snatched it away and handed it over to someone else."

"Miranda…" Once again, it was Andrea that broke the physical barrier between them by reaching out and grabbing onto Miranda's hand. "You don't need to explain yourself to me."

Miranda swallowed down the lump of emotion that had been building in her throat. "Yes I do. I should have to explain myself to someone."

"Then explain it to Nigel," Andrea reasoned. "You didn't do anything to me."

Miranda let a self-deprecating smile appear. "I can't," she softly admitted. "I never explain my decisions to anyone." And she wouldn't change that just because she felt badly for what she had done. Besides, Nigel had probably already heard the rumors of her imminent demise and knew why he hadn't gotten the James Holt position she had originally put him up for. He would know that he had been her sacrifice, and he would understand it.

"I've heard the rumors about you, you know." Andrea confessed. "It's almost impossible not to." Miranda began to remove her hand from underneath Andrea's, but Andrea wouldn't let her. "There have been times I couldn't believe that any of them were true, but I always knew…" She shrugged as if she didn't know quite how to go on. "There was a part of me that always knew that most of them probably were."

It was an interesting confession that Miranda knew she had no real argument against. There were a lot of rumors about her, she had heard a good deal of them, but she wasn't knowledgeable enough to know which to specifically deny or which to admit to. So, she said nothing in her own defense, an act she knew Andrea would surely notice.

"So, you know," Andrea continued after only a few moments more of Miranda's continued silence. "I had to ask myself what I'd do if I heard you say or do something that I didn't agree with. I've had to ask myself how I'd handle it."

"And?" Miranda prompted as Andrea fell into her own silence.

This time it was Andrea's chance to laugh at herself. "I told myself I'd stand up for what's right. I don't know," she shook her head. "I guess I imagined that it'd be this whole big deal and I'd walk away from you, and might even throw my phone away in a fountain or something so that you couldn't call me back."

Miranda smirked at the imagery. "Sounds dramatic."

"It would have been," Andrea agreed. "It wouldn't have been worth doing otherwise. But," her voice turned serious once more, "I didn't walk away. I honestly don't really know how I feel about what happened today, but I do know that when you had a choice between yourself and someone else, you chose yourself. And—and I just don't think I can fault you for that."

Miranda knew she had to be in a pathetic state since Andrea not faulting her made her feel so relieved. She didn't need Andrea's approval, just like Andrea was in no need of hers. They were not personally or professional dependent on one another. But still, Andrea's admittance meant a lot to her, meant more than it should. And since Miranda was overwhelmed with the unfamiliar relief, she expressed it in the only way that felt appropriate. She leaned in towards Andrea, and gently pressed her lips against Andrea's cheek.

Andrea's body stiffened, but she made no effort to move away. Her hand tightened its hold on Miranda's and a soft sigh carrying Miranda's name escaped.

"It's you," Miranda whispered as her lips left Andrea's soft skin.

"Me?" Andrea's eyes fluttered open.

"You smell like freesias," Miranda explained.

Andrea snorted and rolled her head away. "Whatever."

Miranda pulled further away. She could feel the car slowing, and knew it was time for her to reenter the world waiting for her outside. With her free hand, she slipped her sunglasses back on and then took in a deep breath to prepare for the coming storm. "Take the car back to your hotel," she mindlessly instructed Andrea. "I know you still have work to do."

The door was opened for her, and she was preparing to step out when she felt a tug on the hand she hadn't yet bothered to free from Andrea's grasp. She turned back to Andrea with a questioning brow raised, impatiently waiting for whatever it is Andrea wanted.

"I, um…" Andrea shook her head and closed her eyes as if she were talking herself out of saying something.

Miranda looked behind her at all the people who were waiting for her to make her exit. She told her chauffer to close the door, and that she'd open it when she was ready, and then turned back to Andrea. "What is it, Andrea?"

"I don't know," Andrea confessed. "I just…I wasn't ready to let go." Concerned brown eyes lifted to hold onto Miranda's. "Are you okay? I don't think I've asked that yet."

Miranda was startled by the question, but not as startled by the sentiment behind it. She studied Andrea's face, realizing that when she had kissed Andrea she'd marred the woman's face with her dark lipstick. She reached out and brushed the lipstick away. "I'm fine."

"Okay." Andrea's hand let go of Miranda's hand. "Then stop being lazy and get to work."

Miranda rolled her eyes, her hand dropping away from Andrea's face. She stared at Andrea for a moment longer before she turned and opened the car door. The chauffer opened it the rest of way, and Miranda stepped out a smile planted on her face. She walked up the stairs in front of her. When she reached the top, something pushed her to turn around. She saw that Andrea had stepped out of the car and was watching her.

Miranda again raised a questioning brow, slightly confused by Andrea's actions. Andrea smiled at her, shrugged and mouthed, "I feel like walking." She then turned and walked away from the limousine and the bright lights flashing in Miranda's face.

Miranda watched her as long as she thought it prudent, and then turned back to finish the day that was not yet over and would not be over for a long time to come. She entered the building and was immediately met by Emily and Amanda, and all the sudden it was once again back to business as usual.


	6. Chapter 6

Miranda finished her week in Paris alone, or…well without Andrea. There had been no reason for Andrea to stay past the auto show and quite frankly Auto Universe wasn't going to pay for her to stay in Paris longer than was required. Their budget was nowhere near as generous as Runway's and that difference had been highlighted by the accommodations Andrea had received during her stay compared to that of the Runway staff. Andrea had been forced to share a room with the photographer that had accompanied her and was given a small budget for incidentals. Of course, Andrea had faired much better than her colleague since Miranda had involved Andrea as much as possible in her own schedule. That meant better food and on one particularly late night, a better bed.

Still, despite the distractions Andrea had provided and the work that filled her day, Miranda could not completely cast aside the fact that when she returned to New York she would be facing a failed marriage and two very disappointed girls. No matter how Paris fashion week ended for her professionally, it would always be tainted with her personal loss. Though, it would also be filled with the unexpected affirmation of the odd connection she had to Andrea Sachs.

Normally, leaving Paris gave Miranda a sense of melancholy. She always felt like she was leaving the only place in the world where she felt like she was truly at home. But, like so many other things that had begun to change in her life, this year she left Paris content with what she had accomplished, but glad to be returning to New York, despite the torrential storm that was waiting to be unleashed upon her life when she got there. She missed her girls. She missed the familiarity of her home, and unexpectedly, she missed Andrea.

She missed the dinners they would share in which Andrea exposed her to unseemly concoctions that passed for affordable meals. She missed their companionable silences that fell between them when they met up for drinks or coffee. She missed the flutter of anticipation that came every time she stepped into one of the elevators at Elias-Clarke and wondered if by chance Andrea would mindlessly step onto the lift with her.

It had been a long time since Miranda had shared such casual intimacy with anyone, and now that she had rediscovered it, she wondered how she had not gone insane without it. She had never been a woman prone to isolation, but somehow it had happened. She had managed to become so distanced from the people around her that she began to genuinely wonder how she had ever managed to marry Stephen at all. She could not remember what had drawn them together, could not remember why she had agreed to marry him or why he had agreed to marry her. All of those memories that should have been precious and unforgettable had somehow begun to blur and fade into their present reality of discord, strenuous communication, and the inability to stay in each other's company for extended periods of time.

She hadn't heard from Stephen since he had called her to let her know about their impending divorce, but she assumed that he had already moved out. He probably hadn't even taken the time out to tell the girls goodbye since they had been staying with their grandmother. Miranda hadn't wanted to break the news to them over the phone, so she had that wonderful conversation to look forward to when she finally saw them again. She hadn't believed that Caroline and Cassidy were too terribly close to Stephen, but they had certainly grown accustomed to him being a daily fixture in their routines. It wasn't good for them to have people torn out of their lives so unfairly. It wasn't their fault their stepfather now hated her. The girls were not part of her and Stephen's irreconcilable differences, but neither were they a reason for them to stay together. After all, they were not his daughters and while Miranda was sure he cared for them, she doubted he truly loved them.

When her car finally pulled up to her home, she looked upon the empty house with a sense of relief. She would get a chance to spend the night alone before the girls came home and she was forced to explain everything that had happened while she was away. She let Roy carry her bags inside, but did nothing further with them. She felt no desire to unpack and felt very little desire to do anything else that involved Runway. So, she didn't.

Instead, she walked through her home trying to absorb what it felt like without Stephen's presence. All of his things were gone, including the desk she had bought him as a Christmas present two years ago. The house was emptier, but for some reason, it didn't feel that way. It felt comfortable again, and a small part of her was thankful that Stephen had taken so many things that they had acquired together throughout their short marriage. She supposed that she could have been upset by him taking some things that weren't rightfully his, but she couldn't bring herself to really care. She guessed that Stephen might have taken so much just so that he could act out a childish method of revenge, but if upsetting her had been his goal then he failed in achieving it.

If he wanted to take furniture that could easily be replaced, she wouldn't argue with him. It was all he could walk away with since she had been sure to have him sign a prenuptial agreement. He couldn't touch any of her finances, couldn't even touch the house. All he could do was steal her furniture.

Miranda stayed staring into what had been Stephen's office until she remembered she had invited Andrea over for dinner. They had talked right before her flight had left Paris and Andrea had been talking frantically about quitting her job over some insane thing her editor had said or done. At the time, Miranda really didn't have the time to talk Andrea through the personal crisis and had mindlessly suggested they meet up for dinner upon her return. Andrea had agreed and now Miranda was faced with having to come up with a meal.

Miranda walked into her kitchen, turned on the Bose Acoustic Wave® music system she kept there for when she felt like preparing her own meals, and then began pulling things out of her refrigerator. She had told Emily to make sure it was stocked before she returned home, and as usual, Emily hadn't forgotten. Miranda was starting to think that it was, perhaps, coming time she promote her first assistant. Despite her physical limitation, Emily had done a good job in Paris and Miranda believed that sort of dedication deserved to be rewarded.

The doorbell rang just as Miranda had begun to cut up the vegetables. She picked up a towel and then walked to the door, opening it without hesitation. "You look pathetic," she said as she took in Andrea's makeup-less face, unkempt hair, and torn jeans.

"It's Sunday," Andrea said as if that simple statement explained her appearance.

"I am aware of that." Miranda stepped aside to let Andrea in.

Andrea stepped inside, her eyes going wide as she looked around. "You know, Miranda," she said as she stepped further into the living space, "for some reason, I pictured you'd have more furniture."

Miranda closed the door. "I did, but it seems to have decided to walk out with Stephen."

"Oh." Andrea nodded her understanding. "Nate didn't take anything but cookware and his clothes when he moved out."

"Well," Miranda began walking back towards the kitchen, "I'm not even sure Stephen ever bothered to learn where the kitchen was."

Andrea followed her, her eyes still taking in Miranda's home. It was the first time she had ever seen it. Miranda had never wanted to invite her over while Stephen was there. She didn't think it would have been fair to ask Andrea to spend time with someone she herself had not wanted to spend any time with.

When they finally walked into the kitchen, Miranda moved back to cutting vegetables and Andrea leaned against the counter seemingly content to watch Miranda's preparations for the meal they would consume.

"So, are you going to tell me why you were so upset earlier?" Miranda eventually asked over the soft sound of Billie Holliday's voice singing a rendition of Don't Explain.

"I quit my job," Andrea's eyes stayed focused on the countertop.

"I gathered that much." Miranda stopped her chopping. "What I don't know is why?"

Andrea reached out, picked up a piece of carrot, and then quickly popped it into her mouth. "It's stupid," she mumbled.

"Ah." Miranda laid down the knife. "So, you were protecting my virtue." She turned away and checked on the items she had cooking on the stove.

Andrea choked on her carrot. "What," she cleared her throat. "What makes you say that?"

Miranda turned back to Andrea. "Well, I could say that I'm psychic or some nonsense." She brushed her hair away from her face. "But I know what happened in Paris has been circulating the rumor mills."

"It's so…" Andrea released a frustrated sight. "Stupid. What happened has nothing to do with Auto Universe, but they still talk about you as if you're some," she waved her hands around obviously trying to grasp hold onto some word that wouldn't be too offensive but also wouldn't underplay the seriousness of their name-calling.

"Devil," Miranda filled in before Andrea had a chance to.

Andrea's hands dropped. "Yeah. I just, couldn't stay silent anymore, and when I said something about it Ken said something completely inappropriate about our time in Paris, and I quit."

Miranda stilled her movements. "What did he say about Paris?"

Andrea shrugged. "I guess he was told about me hanging out with you in Paris, because he said something about him not paying me to whore around at another publication." She ran her hand across her forehead. "I worked really hard in Paris, and for him to just push all that aside because I spent some time with you?" She shook her head, her words dying off in her obvious annoyance.

"Do you want…?" Miranda halted her words, thinking it best she not offer to intervene. It would have been easy for her to get Ken removed from his position and Andrea into a better one, but she refused to take action where none had been requested of her. If Andrea wanted her help, then she would have asked for it.

"I would love for you to go kick his ass," Andrea said, apparently not needing Miranda to finish speaking in order to know what was going to be asked. "But I can't use you like that. There's no reason for you to come in and save me all the time."

Miranda rolled her eyes, slightly disconcerted that Andrea had been able to read her intent so well. "I've never come in to save you."

"Exactly," Andrea quickly agreed. "And I don't want you to. Besides, I've already got an interview lined up at the New York Mirror. I'll finally get a chance to write about something other than cars. It's time I get back to what I really want to do with my life."

"How did you get an interview so quickly?" Miranda asked, knowing of the difficulties Andrea had gone through to just get an interview at Auto Universe.

"Well," Andrea drew out the word, "it might have helped that I put you down as a personal reference."

"What?" Andrea asked as Miranda began laughing. "Just because I don't want you firing the entire Auto Universe staff, doesn't mean I'm above using your name to get my foot into someone else's door." She shrugged. "Besides, I put Lily down as a personal reference as well. So, for all we know, it could have been her name that tipped the scale in my favor."

"Oh I'm sure it was," Miranda sarcastically replied as she resumed cooking. "When's your interview?"

Andrea reached out to pick up another carrot piece. "Tuesday." She tentatively nibbled on the edges of the carrot. "I, um, also called Nate."

Miranda didn't take her attention away from the stove. "Hmm."

"I feel like I needed to talk to him." Andrea dropped the carrot away from her mouth. "I feel like I should apologize for how everything turned out."

Miranda concentrated on the sauce she was stirring, choosing to remain silent since she felt Andrea owed Nate nothing. He had made his choices just like Andrea had. He had pursued his own self interests and condemned Andrea when she chose to do the same. But, Miranda realized that Andrea was a sensitive woman who would apologize just because she felt badly about their breakup. She would try to explain things to Nate, and make peace where she could. Miranda respected that part of Andrea, and even at times envied it.

"You don't think I should meet up with him," Andrea knowingly commented.

"And what makes you think that?" Miranda's gaze met Andrea's. "I don't recall saying that."

Andrea pushed herself away from the counter. "You're doing that lip," she pointed at her own lips, "thing."

"Make yourself useful and set the table." She deflected Andrea's insinuation, not wanting to delve into her own acts of pettiness.

Andrea softly chuckled, but started rummaging through the cabinets in search of dinnerware. Miranda watched her for a moment trying to figure out just when exactly Andrea had decoded all of her mannerisms. And more, she wondered when she had decoded Andrea's. She tried to recall when exactly their interactions had become so casual, tried to remember when exactly she had felt relaxed enough to act like an actual flawed human being instead of like the Devil that wears Prada. The more she tried to come up with the precise moment she had allowed Andrea into her life, the more she realized that there was no special, dramatic moment. Andrea had simply walked onto an elevator and Miranda had simply let her.

"Are you still thinking about world hunger?" Andrea asked from directly behind Miranda, causing her to jump back unexpectedly into Andrea's body. Unprepared to hold the extra weight, Andrea wrapped her arms around Miranda's waist and then let them fall to the floor.

Instinctually, Miranda closed her eyes doing her best to brace herself for the fall. After impact, she could hear Etta James belting out At Last from the Bose sound system, could feel Andrea's body beneath hers, could feel Andrea's heart pounding wildly, and couldn't help but take comfort in the arms that were still wrapped around her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked down into Andrea's worried gaze.

"Are you okay?" Andrea whispered.

"I don't think so," Miranda admitted, all too aware of the tension that was building from within her body, recognizing it for the lust that it was. She began to break away from the body lying beneath hers, but as Andrea had done before, she forced Miranda to stay and face the moment they were in. She refused to let Miranda walk away.

"Well," Andrea smirked, "I don't think I am either."

"And why do you think that is?" Miranda could guess, and she knew that her guess would be right but she didn't want to say anything out loud. She still wanted to have the option of safely pulling away with the chance of what was being unspoken remaining withheld.

Andrea's smirk fell away. Her face turned more serious than Miranda had ever seen it before. "Because I want to kiss you, and I want you to kiss me back."

Miranda dropped her head onto Andrea's chest. "When did this happen?" She spoke into Andrea's breast.

"I don't know," Andrea softly replied.

Miranda lifted her head. She stared into Andrea's eyes, not quite sure if she was going to try and push away again or give into Andrea's voiced desire. She wasn't sure what was going to happen until she felt her lips meeting Andrea's and felt Andrea pressing up against her.

It wasn't a perfect kiss, their mouths not yet used to the presence of the other's for it to be perfect, but it was emotional and without pretense. It was lustfully simple, and when they finally pulled away, Miranda could not find reason to regret it. "At this rate," she said as she carefully lifted herself up off of Andrea's body, "I'm never going to solve world hunger." Once settled on her own two feet, she reached out and offered Andrea a hand up.

Andrea laughed, and reached out to grab onto Miranda's hand. "It's not so important," she said as she stood up, and then was once again looking directly into Miranda's eyes.

The moment could have easily turned awkward, Miranda realized. Either of them could have started to stammer like immature teenagers who were for the first time falling into elementary explorations of their sexuality, but she didn't feel awkward. She felt comfortable with Andrea's presence, with their closeness. "Did you finish with the table?" She asked, turning back to the food.

"I did," Andrea proudly proclaimed.

"Then, help me serve the food."

Together, they laid the food out, and then shared the meal like they had shared every other meal. They spoke briefly about work, about friendships, their families, and their futures. They didn't speak about the kiss again until their meal was finished and Andrea was preparing to leave. Even then, it wasn't a conversation about how their relationship should proceed or whether or not they were now intimate partners. Andrea had simply asked, "Is it okay if I kiss you again before I leave?"

Miranda had reached out, placing her hands on Andrea's waist. "You'll regret it if you don't."

Andrea smirked, and then leaned over to capture Miranda's lips with her own. And, as second kisses went, Miranda believed that it was sort of perfect.

Miranda walked out of Elias-Clarke speaking on her cell phone berating Amanda for the car not being present when she had reached the ground floor. Conversation over, she snapped the cell phone shut, and when she looked up, she saw Andrea standing across the street watching her. She stopped and rested her hand against the roof of the town car, as Andrea dipped her head and waved. Miranda looked at her for a moment longer before she slid into the backseat.

Andrea shook her head before she started walking again, and Miranda took off her sunglasses and silently watched her. She couldn't help but smile as Andrea trotted off with the crowd. She waited for a moment longer, her patience beginning to wear thin when the door finally opened again and Andrea slid in next to her.

"Go," Miranda ordered her driver as soon as Andrea was situated.

Without a word, the driver pulled away from the curb. Miranda looked to Andrea who had a smile fixed on her face. "And what are you so annoyingly happy about?" She asked, well aware that Andrea's interview with The New York Mirror had just taken place.

Andrea's smile didn't fade. "You've been saying nice things about me."

Miranda feigned annoyance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Andrea leaned forward and placed a quick kiss against Miranda's lips. "Thank you." She said as she pulled away.

Miranda simply rolled her eyes as she slipped her sunglasses back on, not completely unaware of the hand Andrea had casually resting on her leg. She lifted her own hand and then placed it against Andrea's, happy that her life no longer was run by the deadened beat of a tireless rhythm. Somehow, she had once again managed to grasp onto moments of happiness. Her life wasn't perfect, wasn't wrapped in a nice colorful bow. She was still going through a very public divorce, still had two daughters whose lives were being uprooted once more, still had Irv's spite to contend with, but her life wasn't empty either.

"Congratulations," she whispered, dropping all pretenses she had taken on after Andrea had entered the car. She leaned over and brushed her lips against Andrea's, not at all caring what her driver would think or what anyone else might think either. She was alive again, and that was all she could figure really mattered.


End file.
